


recover him slowly.

by bbnokrying



Series: chlorine. [2]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Nightmares, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbnokrying/pseuds/bbnokrying
Summary: ohms recovery.
Relationships: John | KryozGaming/Jonathan | H2ODelirious/SMii7Y, John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y, John | Kryozgaming & SMii7Y, Jonathan | H2ODelirious & SMii7Y, Ryan | Ohmwrecker & John | KryozGaming, Ryan | Ohmwrecker & SMii7Y
Series: chlorine. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1406512
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	recover him slowly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ohm has a bad dream and kryoz shows up to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood, delusions or hallucinations, and weird dream things.

there’s blood on everything. the walls, the floor, the ceiling. his hands are visible in his sight and they’re covered in it too. his gaze venturing down; it’s on his boots, his pants, his shirt and his arms. it’s  _ everywhere.  _ the red sticks to him, disgusting and filthy, and he sees it shine and drip off his hands in the dim light of the room he’s in.

the room. he picks his head up, stares at a part of the wall and hears his feet move; listens to his footsteps sound like he’s wading through water, the ugly splashing of the puddles of blood under his boots making his throat close as he makes his way to a wall. he raises a hand to it, flattens a bloody hand against it and watches as blood stains the cool surface. he drags his hand into a fist and slams it against the wall. he  _ screams  _ when the metal burns him and he watches the bloody handprint left behind only seconds ago boil on the wall, bubbling red dripping down and swirling in with the rest of the blood on the floor. he falls back, listening to the steps, listening to the blood burning and boiling, listens to his breathing hitch as he chokes on the smell of blood and burning blood.

he turns his head, looks over his shoulder without stepping again, and there is no door behind him. he looks back forward, confused, but the handprint is gone. his bloody footprints aren’t there anymore and he can only stare at the floor, his blood covered boots, and the place his hand paint once was. maybe he took a step when he turned his head? he twists around, and the walls are barren.

there is no blood anywhere now.

ohmwrecker looks down at his shaking hands and sees one in a fist. he turns his palm up and opens his cramped fingers. he’s holding an old, recognizable key. he looks up and there’s no metal, nothing keeping him trapped in incessant light. when he tries to walk he hears a splash around him and turns his head, always on guard here in this space. he’s too late.

something hits him in the face and he falls.

blurry vision doesn’t stop him from seeing the old key laying a few feet away and doesn’t stop him from seeing the puddle of blood forming around his head.

he wakes up back in that metal room, but this time it’s pristine. he can see the bolts in the walls, the faint outline of the door he didn’t see before, if it was there at all. he would have been able to see the shadowed outline of him on the metal walls if he looked close enough, but his eyes find the shadow behind him before he can settle his eyes on his own.

he turns around to look behind him and the room is still pristine and as empty as it was before, just him. he looks at the wall in front of him now and catches sight of the blur raising their arms. ohm can taste the panic, feels it bubbling in his throat as he whines. he steps backwards, staring at the wall, and he should have run into someone if they were standing there.

the feeling of the wall against his back, opposite of the one he’s looking at, offers no comfort. when the shadow disappears, ohm turns his head and watches blood pool from the wall and onto the grey and white clothes he’s wearing.

suddenly he’s on his back. he hadn’t moved his back from the wall. there is blood in the shape of a handprint under his head in the mirror ceiling and he watches another one slowly press down over his neck and chest.

he sits up from the blood-stained metal floor and grabs the old, recognizable key and doesn’t look back as he runs through old, unwelcoming streets. there’s blood caked on his face, in his hair, and he runs past someone holding a bloody bat and a wallet ohm recognizes too well. a split second cut of a name, a face, and ohms legs stall and he almost falls. he keeps running. his wallet was empty during this hour anyways.

he looks forward and promptly runs into a wall.

his skin burns and the key is gone. he falls back to the middle of the room and he stares at the bloodied walls. his handprint is there. his white and grey shirt is covered in red. his clothes are heavy and sticky with it, and his boots splash when he moves.

he falls down to his knees, red splashing everywhere, and there are new tears on his cheeks as he slams a fist against the floor. it burns, but not because it’s just hot. the feeling of hitting a burn on something hurts more and the blood he kneels in slowly rises in temperature. ohm shakes and he doesn’t have the energy to do anything but kneel there.

tears swirl with blood and ohmwrecker drags his hands through it and then deliriously drags those hands up to his face, thoughts swirling around in his head like he saw the water do with the red blood, and his fingernails scrape at his forehead and down, over his eyebrows and eyes and cheeks, his own palms smearing blood on his skin and his nails drawing more from his own body.

he blinks and he sees blood, white, grey, red, metal, bolts, a face and a key. he chokes and sobs, raises his red hands up to his face one last time, and watches his red stained fingertips near his eyes before everything goes dark.

he screams.

.

blurry vision fades in. ohm blinks a few times and the fan above him that hangs from his ceiling comes into focus. theres no metal walls, no blood, and he’s excessively warm under two blankets with the side of his face shoved against his pillow. the uncomfortable feeling of sweat pooling in dips of his body makes him shiver.

he sees someone kneeling by his bed and he jerks a bit at the sight, but they smile and it’s soft. kind and patient. they wait until he focuses on longish hair, the almost lack of facial hair, the big grin and soft hoodie. they whisper, ‘you good?’ and ohm raises a hand (not bloody. not burned. not in a fist. no key.) just to make sure, and brushes his fingers through bleached hair.

kryoz lets him, sets his chin down on the mattress as ohm makes sure he’s real.

ohm breathes out, ‘yeah.’ and musses the others’ hair, sending it to stick up everywhere. he closes his eyes and nothing flashes behind his them, staved off by kryoz’s eyes. ‘yeah, im good.’

john drags him up and makes him take a quick shower to wash the sweat off and hands him new clothes through the crack in the door. john waits until ohm comes back out and smiles, handing him a glass of water that he’d grabbed from the kitchen. he tucks ohm back onto the bed and gently pushes ohm over to climb in with him, using pillows to cushion his shoulders against the wooden headboard and lets ohm curl into his side and use him as a shield.

ohm falls asleep to john’s hand lightly carding through his hair and listening to a game of uno that’s in process on his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ghostswords on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> no your eyes arent decieving you, i deleted the other chapter cos i wasnt satisfied


End file.
